


One with Magnifying Glass

by RationalistRomantic (Chryses)



Series: Fragments [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, it's a depiction of them as children, okay mostly fluff, the buying of gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7398631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryses/pseuds/RationalistRomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John decided to get Sherlock a magnifying glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One with Magnifying Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially planned during Pretenses (along with other shorts). There's no initial order to reading the stories, just that it revolves around part 1, which is current time for them. Hope you enjoy, and hope this clears up some confusion with the previous part.

As a child, John had always thought that Sherlock was an adept squinter.

 

He looked at objects, people, and anything that he’d ever taken interest in with the same ‘I’m-going-to-dissect-you’ expression where he squinted at his muse with complete absolute that it could very well may have been mistaken for a glare; his mouth in an almost perpetual scowl.

 

“It’s my thinking face, John. Don’t be stupid.” His partner had pointed out when John was on the receiving end of it, and he was staring at the clouds; somewhat used to the whole staring bit. That, and he’d learned not to take the whole insult to heart, and just dismissed the whole thing altogether.

 

“Then why do you keep looking at me?” He replied easily without much thought; spotting a large banana with pointy tits behind an enormous blob of a jelly bean. “Can’t exactly be thinking the whole time; I mean you always see my face; doesn’t it get boring or something?” The insecurity lobbed at his gut accidentally. He’s not too sure if he wanted to hear the answer too much.

 

For a whole three minutes, Sherlock doesn’t reply. One glance towards his direction, and he sees his mate cherry-faced. His glare was now re-directed towards one of Mummy Holmes’ potted lilacs.

 

“No.” He stated with finality, and he was off into another hiding spot unbeknownst to John that nobody could locate him until dinner time; his byronic curls covered in dirt, leaves, and some other nature-related thing that John couldn’t identify; the flush returned when he spotted John had sat beside him on the dinner table. “You always pull a face.”

 

John just rolled his brussel sprouts around on his plate with a fork, and practically burned it with his eyes. He hummed, barely paying attention to Sherlock.

 

“When you look at something; there’s always a face for every single thing. It’s..It fascinates me that you’re able to express them freely, and unrestrained.” The little boy confessed this whilst he flinged peas to his brother’s face when their mother was off to fetch some of her freshly baked peach cobbler for dessert. Mycroft kept a cool facade of indifference during the whole of it until Mummy Holmes shows up again, and presented her with a plate of peas that could have only come from Sherlock’s plate.

 

That got John’s whole attention.

 

“No I don’t.” The fork clattered on the table, accompanied by a small thump.

 

Sherlock smirked in the middle of a scolding that John’s almost memorized word-for-word. It always was the same thing for the most of it.

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

And that was that.

 

+

 

The next day, John was refused entry to the Holmes manor faster than he could blink.

 

“But, why?” He stood his straightest in an attempt to appear brave in front of Mycroft who regarded him with stale condescension. John bit his lip before he could make any scathing remark; his mummy always reminded him not to.

 

“Because, John, my brother refuses to see you until -” But John wasn’t paying attention anymore when he sees his mate hide behind a corner with something purple that coated a corner of his temple. Oh, Sherlock.

 

He tried to approach, only to be met with the curly-haired boy running off to who knows where.

 

“ - and he would appreciate it if you don’t bother coming in for a while.” Mycroft finished off, and crossed his arms. He exuded the air of all-knowing even at an early age, and yet he’s enough of a teenager to stubbornly continue even at the midst of being ignored. No wonder Sherlock found the ponce prick unbearable.

 

“Yeah, I’ll go do that.” He muttered distractedly, whilst he turned towards the door and hatched his plan for infiltration.

 

+

 

“Just that, dear?” The cashier questioned with a knowing smile on her face, as she quietly patted the dark object beneath her palm.

 

John frowned at the same time he flushes, but he does give her a curt nod.

 

“Just that.”

 

That git better smile after this.

 

+

 

“Here.” He all but shoved the object beside Sherlock’s microscope, after having successfully climbed up the vines that he habitually used when his friend was being particularly annoying, and refused to see him. “You’re welcome.”

 

Sherlock was perched on his desk, studying a particular specimen under the microscopic lense like the mad scientist he was clearly destined to be. His temple was a lighter lavender colour. The act would’ve been believable, had his head not turned slightly to the side of where John’s placed the magnifying lense; eyeing it with the corner of his eyes.

 

“What is it?” Sherlock asked after a perfect four minutes. He would’ve called him out on his act, but found his experience of having purchased the object to be humiliating as is, and preferred to keep to himself.

 

“Something.” Great, now he’s flushed too.

 

Two perfectly timed minutes later, Sherlock gave in to temptation, and played around with the object. First he slid his small fingers towards every crevice of the material before having decided to yank it open in order to reveal the convex glass. The latter gave an involuntary gasp at the clicking sound that accompanied it; repeatedly opened and closed it a few times to probably test its efficiency.

 

It was then that John decided to depart, and allowed Sherlock to his own devices, and left his friend to examine what he could with the ruddy thing. He’ll come get him when he was ready to talk about it.

 

+

 

When he comes visit Sherlock the next day, he was immediately pushed to the ground without another thought; the crazy prat scanned every inch of his face with beguiled interest; his body rested above John’s own; light enough to not be too uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the squint however, still remained, only with a newer and brighter light to it that he hadn't seen before that reminded him of untrimmed gemstones.

 

He had to ask.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Sherlock made a vague grunt sound, still busy with his mission. The lens rested on his eyes for a long minute before his friend lost interest, and abandoned the spot where he laid, followed by a mercurial sniff. He hadn’t bothered to meet John’s eyes.

 

“Not at all.”

 

And that’s when John decided to tackle him.

**Author's Note:**

> I am open to comments and criticisms, and kudos, if anybody's open to it. Hope you enjoyed the story!


End file.
